


Consumption is Finite

by FanGirling



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, M/M, Multi, Multiple Personalities, Pseudo-Incest, Season/Series 02, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirling/pseuds/FanGirling
Summary: If you haven't watched the final two episodes of Mr. Robot Season 2, please do not read this! Minor spoilers. So this came to me when I was wondering about the warehouse and if Mr. Robot had been there before. Obviously he had to have been, right? Then, y'know, Tyrell would have been there too so this is what happened... apparently? Inspired by this video of Sam Esmail and Martin Wallström: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QA3nYjXK-wSet early to mid Season 2. Tyrell doesn't realise that Elliot isn't actually in control of his body - Mr. Robot takes advantage of it. The fic is a lot better than the summary, I hope. I'll see myself out.





	

“This place is a shithole.” He's walking around, studying the place, checking out the gaps in security, the dust in the corners, dodging out of the way of the cobwebs. 

“But... I mean, it does the job, right? We just needed somewhere away from prying eyes...” Tyrell lifts a corner of the paper on the windows to allow Elliot to see the building just beside them; the proximity of the new Ecorp storage facility. It's almost beautiful to see the soon-to-be-bustling building standing so close to them, “it's perfect.” 

Elliot glances out the window, unimpressed, and sticks a cigarette between his teeth. 

“Perfect? Hardly. Perhaps a property further away would have left us with some deniability. Though I wouldn't expect any of those fucking morons to think of something like that.” 

Tyrell feels his cheeks blush in embarrassment; of course Elliot is right, they should have thought ahead, they should have realised how ridiculous this idea was. 

“But that's where the files will be, it's where they will attempt to rebuild their lives and we can destroy it all over again,” he's almost tingling with the prospect of it. 

Elliot smiles and it's almost affectionate. 

“You want us to watch the world burn.” 

Tyrell hiccups a breath and sighs aloud, nodding. “I wanted us to be able to physically _see_ it, y'know? To see the panic, to _feel_ their terror.” He approaches Elliot, eyes wide, voice shaking. “I want us to experience the beauty of our creation.” 

Elliot huffs out a laugh, smoke seeping from between grinning teeth. 

“Don't get ahead of yourself, kiddo, we haven't succeeded yet,” though his words are condescending – _kiddo?_ – Tyrell can't help but relax at the warmth in his tone. 

Tyrell just wants to be _near_ Elliot, to feel his power, to know that there is so much going on inside his head. So much to discover. He just wants to inhale every part of him, the very essence of who he is. He approaches Elliot and is mere feet from him when he feels his heart pounding inside his chest. 

His hands twitch at his sides and he sees Elliot's left eyebrow rise, a grin crossing his lips. 

“You okay there, kiddo? Got a lotta thoughts goin' on in that head of yours?” 

Tyrell feels breathless, weak, lost in the perfection of what they are. Of what Elliot is.

His voice cracks, he can hardly contain it. The damp smell of the warehouse surrounding them. 

“I just...” His hands grasp Elliot's upper arms and the man is just so fucking unperturbed, “I just want to consume you.” 

Elliot's mouth stretches into a grin and he glances at his crotch, “have at it.” 

Tyrell drops immediately to his knees, disregarding the cost of his immaculate suit; he should have known better than to wear a thousand dollar suit in a warehouse as he tried to dismantle the world's economy. 

He glances up at Elliot's face and his brown eyes are glistening, he can see that affection there once again. 

Tyrell has Elliot's tight jeans unzipped in mere seconds; now that he's faced with the prospect of Elliot's cock, he won't waste a second. Elliot's hand pushes into his hair, his thin fingers are strong and his clothes smell of stale smoke but Tyrell feels his mouth fill with saliva. 

Elliot's surprisingly large cock is hard and pokes through his slim boxers. Tyrell bites his lower lip and groans when Elliot pulls his head roughly to one side., nails scraping his scalp 

Tyrell fishes Elliot's cock out of his boxers and sweeps his tongue over the glistening tip. He's circumcised and Tyrell is slightly surprised. He isn't sure why he didn't expect it but here we are. It's only seconds until Tyrell pulls as much of it into his mouth as he can. 

He tastes salty, musky, and he runs his tongue over the vein on the underside of his cock. 

Then Elliot's voice is whispering softly above his head, “how long you been thinking about doing this, baby?” 

Tyrell whispers; he's never been called 'baby', never thought it could render him breathless like it just did. Elliot pulls Tyrell forcefully away from his cock. 

“Tell me, Tyrell, or I won't give you what you want.” Tyrell feels tears fill his eyes. He closes his eyes and breathes over Tyrell's cock. 

“Since the moment I saw you. Since I saw the way your fingers played over the keyboard, the way you stared at that computer screen like it held the secrets to the universe, I knew... I knew that I... that I needed you, in any way I could have you.” 

Elliot's cheek twitches in amusement, “that wasn't so hard now, was it, baby?” 

Tyrell just shakes his head and Elliot's fingers release from his hair, before he dives back in and attempts to swallow his cock down. Elliot's cock sits heavily on his tongue, then his hips are undulating and the tip hits the back of Tyrell's throat. 

He gags and pulls off Elliot's cock, coughing. 

Elliot begins to zip up his jeans, shaking his head. 

“If you can't do it, kiddo, I understand. We wouldn't want you to _push_ yourself,” his tone is patronising – he should be used to it by now – and it's too much like Joanna for him to stop now. 

“No! No, just let me...” Tyrell breathes deeply through his nose and sucks down Elliot's cock; the sound he makes is enough for Tyrell to forget he has a gag reflex at all. It's deep and guttural and low in his chest. Elliot runs gentle fingers across his cheek, before pressing against the flesh. Tyrell knows what he feels, feels his cock in Tyrell's mouth through his cheek, and he moans again. 

“God, you're so desperate, aren't you? Huh? Didn't know you were such a little slut.” Tyrell chokes on Elliot's cock before Elliot pulls his head away. He runs a thumb over Tyrell's swollen lips and he sighs, “so pretty for me.” 

Then Elliot is pulling Tyrell up to stand in front of him and, though he knows logically that Elliot is shorter, Tyrell feels so small and insignificant in comparison. 

“I... I need – please, Elliot, I can't...” Tyrell is shaking, he can't stop and Elliot is wrapping warm arms around his waist, pulling him closer. His mouth is close to Tyrell's but, when he tries to kiss him, Elliot pulls away, teasing. 

“What do you need, Tyrell?” Voice smoky, a bare whisper. 

Tyrell's face is on fire, his heart pounding out of his chest, hands sweaty against Elliot's chest. He wants, he needs but he can't say it. He can't, he has more dignity than that, right? Elliot sticks his thumbs into Tyrell's hips and Tyrell whines. 

“Say it, baby, or you'll get nothing,” the gleam in Elliot's eye is mischievous and powerful and Tyrell licks his lips at the prospects of their evening. 

“Need – need you, need you on me... touching me...” Elliot's eyes are barely open, just listening to Tyrell's quivering voice. 

“Tell me more, Tyrell.” 

Tyrell presses his nose against Elliot's, his lips just grazing his pouty mouth. He whispers against Elliot's mouth. 

“Need to taste your mouth, need... Need you inside me,” his voice cracks, “please, Elliot.” 

“Well, since you asked so nicely...” Elliot grabs the back of Tyrell's head and their open mouths meet suddenly, teeth clashing, tongues duelling, their arms wrap around each other leaving no space left between them. 

Their hands are suddenly in each other's hair, pulling, yanking, gnashing their teeth together. It's pure and raw and animalistic and Elliot is ripping Tyrell's jacket off. His shirt is next while his tie hangs limply around his neck. 

Elliot pulls away and runs a delicate hand down Tyrell's chest, mesmerised. 

“You're just so fucking _pretty_ ,” then Elliot's mouth is latching to Tyrell's left nipple, biting and gnawing at it like he's trying his best to bite it off. His delicate fingers, calloused in the right places, slip beneath Tyrell's waistband, squeezing his full cheeks roughly. He can feel Elliot's hard, bare cock brush against his crotch. 

“Knulla! Elliot, I... I can't,” Tyrell can hear his voice go up, gasping like a schoolgirl. 

“Jesus,” Elliot growls, teeth grazing Tyrell's collarbone, fingers bruising his hips, “when you speak Swedish, kiddo, it does things to me.” 

Tyrell laughs, feeling some semblance of power has been restored. 

“Du gillar det?” 

Elliot groans and pushes Tyrell towards a nearby horizontal surface, a table that would soon hold a number of electronics, but for now would do as a makeshift bed. Tyrell sits against the edge of the table, coming down to Elliot's height, licking inside each other's mouths. Tyrell holds Elliot's face to his own, fingers gentle, a touch of stubble tingling the tips of his fingers. Elliot leans back to nibble at Tyrell's lower lip, moaning something intelligible. 

Then Tyrell is unzipping Elliot's hoodie, pushing it from his slim shoulders. His t-shirt disappears next. He's slight, smaller than Tyrell thought, and he wonders absently if Ellliot eats enough. 

But something happens then to make the thought fly back out of his mind. 

Elliot pinches one of his nipples, then the other, causing Tyrell's back to arch desperately. 

“Jesus, I never thought you'd be such a whore... Such a whore for pain. For me...” Tyrell is just nodding, face screwed up, lashes glistening with unshed tears. 

Then Elliot is unzipping Tyrell's trousers, unbalancing his legs and pushing him back against the unsteady table. He doesn't seem to care. With his trousers gone, Elliot slowly removes his underwear, finding him glistening at the tip. 

“Naughty boy,” Elliot murmurs, appreciation upon his plump lips. The rest of his clothes wind up on the cold cement floor, to perhaps be ruined forever more. Tyrell couldn't really give a fuck right now, however. 

Because Elliot is ripping down his own jeans, before he shoves two fingers into Tyrell's willing mouth. Tyrell sucks, slurps, lathers Elliot's digits in saliva, hoping it won't cool too much before those fingers are inside him. 

Then Elliot is preparing him, swiftly and without much care. Then he's lining up at Tyrell's hole but Tyrell presses a hand to Elliot's flat stomach and glances up at him with worried eyes. 

“Um, do you think that's enough prep?” 

The corner of Elliot's mouth twitches in amusement, before he leans down to lick deeply into Tyrell's mouth. He's brushing his nose against Tyrell's and nods, “just wanna make sure you'll feel this for days. Who knows when I'll get inside that little hole again.” 

Tyrell loses his breath momentarily, but then he's nodding and he didn't realise what he was actually saying until Elliot was pushing inside him, pressing his cock slowly inside him. Tyrell moans like a pornstar. 

“Jesus, you're so fucking _tight_ you might just chop my cock off,” Elliot laughs, breathless, hands digging into Tyrell's hips, “I could die a happy man right now, baby.” 

Tyrell is shaking, before he finally opens his eyes. Elliot looks beautiful, a thin sheen of sweat like a varnish over his pale skin, collarbones catching the dull light like they were made for it. But it's his face that gets Tyrell; his eyes are closed, head tilted back, and his mouth is hanging open, tongue playing against the sharp ridges of his teeth as he attempts to reign himself in. Then he's looking at Tyrell and he feels like he's the only person in the world. 

Elliot bends at the waist then, his cock firmly in Tyrell's hole, and then he's thrusting.

And it fucking _hurts_. 

Tyrell digs his nails into Elliot's forearms, but it's almost like he can't feel it; he's so deep in the sensation of Tyrell that there is nothing else. 

“Thought such a pretty little hole woulda been fucked already.” 

There's the condescension again but Tyrell just tightens around Elliot, hard, in an attempt to punish him – if anyone could really call it 'punishment'. But then Elliot just gasps and fucks into Tyrell without any consideration for his pain threshold. 

“Elliot!” Tyrell gasps, tears seeping from his eyes. 

Elliot grins, shit-eating, his teeth a pearly white, “Serves you right, Tyrell, you know what you did.”

Then Elliot is fucking into him in earnest, chest heaving, hips digging meaningfully into Tyrell's thighs. 

“Kiss me, Elliot, k-kiss,” Tyrell can hear his voice slur, wet lips unable to wrap around the simplest of words. 

Elliot rewards him with a kiss, bending over, slowing his thrusts and gently prying Tyrell's lips open with his tongue. Tyrell shivers at the feeling. Elliot licks the soft, fleshy skin just beyond his lips, maps the shape of his teeth, before finally succumbing to his delicate tongue. Tyrell digs his fingers into Elliot's hair, pulling at the longer strands, digging his fingernails into his scalp. 

Elliot has stopped thrusting completely, cock firmly nestled inside Tyrell, as they study each other's mouths. Then Tyrell is whispering against Elliot's lips. 

“Have you... ever thought about me like this? Before?” He can feel how fragile his ego is, but then Elliot's eyes soften. 

“Who _hasn't_ wanted to fuck you, kiddo?” Then he's thrusting again, slower this time, languid and continuous, “I bet men have begged to get inside you.” 

Tyrell can't help himself, though, Elliot's explanation isn't enough. He wraps his hands around Elliot's sides and moves with him, “but what about you?” 

He can feel the sweat cooling on his body. Elliot stops moving. 

“What do you want me to say, Tyrell?” He bends over, face close and voice almost sinister – Tyrell is ashamed to say it turns him on, “you want me to say that I've wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you? That I wanted to see you on your knees, on your back, on your hands and knees and that it was all I could think about? That I wanted to fuck you harder than I'd ever fucked anyone and then make slow, gentle love to you...?” 

Tyrell's too desperate, he's too stupid, Elliot can't be saying these things, right? But then he's pressing soft kisses to Tyrell's collarbone and whispering so delicately, he almost can't hear it. 

“And then one day, soon, I would want you to be inside me, so you could make me feel the way no one else ever has...” 

“Jesus, Elliot,” Tyrell is barely breathing, thinks he'll never manage it again, “I love you.” 

Then Elliot is pulling away, face serious, and fucking inside with utter abandon. Tyrell can feel his orgasm closing in, didn't expect Elliot's words, or the way he pushes against his prostate on every thrust. His cock has been on the precipice for twenty minutes now and he needs to touch himself. 

Elliot's thrusts speed up, before he's growling, “touch yourself, kiddo.” Tyrell just nods his head and does as he is told, licking his lips as he grabs a hold of his cock. 

“Jesus, do that again,” Elliot groans, but Tyrell is confused, “your lips, lick your lips again. Fuck!” 

So Tyrell just stares up into Elliot's deep eyes and rolls his tongue over his lips, biting them, making them as red and wet as possible. Elliot stares at Tyrell's brusied lips with intense determination. 

“You're gonna be the death of me, kiddo,” he groans, voice a mere growl. 

Tyrell pumps his hand, head thrown back, neck bared to the moist air, and then he's coming, splattering his white knuckles and adorning his chest like a medal. 

Elliot digs chipped nails into Tyrell's thighs, his hips stuttering at the way Tyrell's hole spasms around him. 

“Tryna chop my dick off, huh?” He breathes out a laugh and Tyrell can only stare at the droplets of sweat on his neck. 

Tyrell is beginning to get sensitive, nerves fizzling through his skin, prostate stimulated within an inch of its life. 

“Please, Elliot, pleeease,” he's whimpering, something he's never heard himself do before, not around anyone but this wiry hacker, “please just cum in me, please.” 

“And I'll be the first...” Elliot's licking the sweat from his upper lip, grinning like there's something hilarious behind his eyes. 

But Tyrell is just nodding his head, stuttering something like “yes,” and Elliot barks out a laugh of celebration. 

Elliot moans out something unintelligible, his lips slipping together, before his cock explodes inside Tyrell. His hips continue to pulse, swollen cock deflating inside the other man. 

Elliot's body slides against Tyrell, chests meeting, and Tyrell isn't sure what to do with his hands so he just slips a hand under Elliot's collar and feels the tackiness of his skin. 

Then he's standing up and pulling slowly out of Tyrell, taking care not to hurt him; Tyrell hopes there is something in the small gesture. Elliot tucks himself back into his jeans and zips himself up, while Tyrell glances around for his clothes. It's only when he stands up that he sees his tie still lying limply around his neck. 

Tyrell pulls his trousers on, forgoing the underwear he can't spot from where he's standing. He can feel Elliot watching him. When he has his shirt somewhat buttoned, he shrugs into his jacket. 

Then Elliot approaches him quickly, pulling him by his tie, pressing his warm lips to Tyrell's. 

Tyrell glows warm from the inside, he smiles, “what was that for?” Elliot just grins, like he has a secret. 

Elliot just shrugs, pulling away, “I won't see you again.” 

Tyrell feels his insides run cold, “what do you mean?” 

Elliot just grins, “you'll realise soon enough,” he presses another kiss to Tyrell's lips, lingering, pressing his tongue inside and Tyrell can't help but shudder. Then Elliot is pulling away and striding towards the elevator, pushing a cigarette between his teeth. 

“Bon soir, Tyrell.” 

Tyrell watches him go, feels Elliot's cum leaking out of him and wonders if he'll return soon, or when. 

Then he notices his own underwear sticking out of Elliot's back pocket and grins, yelling so he hopes Elliot can hear it. 

“Bon soir, Elliot!”


End file.
